


Sense of Right Alliance

by Shinzu



Category: DC Animated Universe, New 52 - Fandom, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Next Generation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-04 22:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10291877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinzu/pseuds/Shinzu
Summary: Clara heaved. She looked up, tears in her eyes. A collapsed building had crushed one of her dad's legs. He couldn't get up.“Clara listen to me,” her dad said in a clear, enunciated voice. “Run! You have to run.” He grimaced. “Run faster than you've ever run before. And keep going. Keep running until you find me again. I love you so much, but you have to run. Now!”





	1. Flashpoint

**Author's Note:**

> A world I've been thinking about for the past week or two, which is essentially a mashup of my favorite parts from the Animated Universe, New 52, Young Justice, and Flash. Heavily features that next-gen vibe I used to love when I was a kid, and since the multiverse is canon, why not? If you need me to add anything to the tags feel free to tell me! I'll add more characters to the list as they show up.
> 
> Personally, I like to call this the 'Justice League Knockoff' but my friend showed me a beautiful wonderful bootleg name.

The ground rattled beneath her. She could feel the warmth of her dad's arms as he ran—ran as fast as he could. To others it was only a blur. To her the world was slow, heightened. When she peeked out, she saw her cousin Wally. And beside him, a smaller boy she'd never met before. Not yet anyway.

Her father had been real secretive about what was going on. About what he even did with his life at all outside of being a part of the CCPD. All she knew was that he could run father than anyone she'd ever seen before. And she swore it to secrecy. What she didn't know either was that her cousin was a speedster. It was comforting. She'd never considered there'd be others out there like her and her dad, and she wanted so much to meet them. The only problem was she wasn't as fast as them. She'd lag half a mile behind Wally, and she noticed he couldn't even keep up with the other two! He was trying though. Trying so hard with the ground shaking beneath them and buildings crumbling to the ground like they did when she'd been retrieved from home.

It was a volcano, she thought, till she saw the objects in the sky blowing up all around. An attack? She tried to look farther, but her dad shifted her so she sat deeper in his arms and couldn't look over her shoulder. When she looked up, she could only see his chin, and a grimace on his face.

Was her mom dead? She heard screaming before she'd gotten picked up. It was from her parent's room, which had collapsed into the kitchen. And her mom wasn't there with them now. She feared for her mom—hoped she was okay. But her thoughts were jostled when a rock kicked up under her father and sent him flying. He tried to keep hold of her, gripping her tighter against his chest, shouting as something hit him square in the back and sent him forward.

He let go.

Clara rolled a few feet away, narrowly missing a lamp post that came down beside her. Having hit her head, she was wobbly getting up, and she was seeing stars. Beneath those stars were her father, being helped up by Wally. The smaller was trying to rip off his blood-soaked mask. Her father had hit his head against the concrete and broken his nose.

“Dad?” she asked, hauling herself to her feet. She brushed hair out of her eyes, not aware till now that she was covered head to toe in dust. 

No.

Ash.

Her dad pulled his mask back over his face and gave her a cheeky smile and thumbs up. “I'm alright sweetie,” he said, coughing. He put a hand to his ear. “Batman. Batman! Come in—what do you mean he's missing! Hal? John? Manhunter?” Gritting his teeth, he grabbed onto Wally's shoulder for support and pulled himself up. “Ugh!”

It was at that moment that Clara first noticed the second moon in the sky. She became entranced, her jaw dropping, as it seemed to laze through the sky without a care in the world. She pointed. “Dad! Do you see that? What is that?”

Her dad's face looked pained. He swallowed, looking at her, saying something that she didn't hear. Wally zipped around and scooped her up as the small one—she heard them call him Bart—sprinted off to push some folks away from a falling wall. She could have sworn she heard 'we failed', but her dad didn't accept failure. And if it was imminent, he would always find a way to make it better. 

Clara was set on the flattest piece of ground Wally could find. There was chattering around her. It grew louder and louder, like five hundred people were trying to talk to her at once. It was like being back at school again in the auditorium. Voices blended together, her ears incapable of picking out words. She felt herself being moved, running, running. 

She opened her eyes. The sky looked blood red. For the first time ever she saw tears roll down her dad's face. His mask, again, was off. He was saying something. His lips were moving. But she couldn't hear. The second moon looked closer and bigger than anything she'd ever seen. Where did the moon /go/?

“C...ra….Cl...Clara!”

Snapping to, the girl looked up again, her eyes wide. The ground beneath her father split. It opened up like the huge gaping jaws of a monster. Again she tumbled, but this time she was thrown to the other end of the gap. She hit the ground with a thud, smacking her head again. Given the warmth along her jaw, she thought she must've hit it on something sharp. This rock, maybe. 

Clara heaved. She looked up, tears in her eyes. A collapsed building had crushed one of her dad's legs. He couldn't get up.

“Clara listen to me,” her dad said in a clear, enunciated voice. “Run! You have to run.” He grimaced. “Run faster than you've ever run before. And keep going. Keep running until you find me again. I love you so much, but you have to run. Now!”

She couldn't bear to leave him behind. But when she tried to approach, the piece of land he had been on lurched. One end pointed toward the sky, the other end sinking, and before her very eyes she watched the speedster disappear under literal tons of debris. For a moment her heart stopped. Her head buzzed. Surely this was all a dream? She even rubbed her eyes and shook her head—an action which caused a stabbing searing pain to shoot through her head to the back of her skull. Her face became soaked with tears. 

Never in her life had she felt this strangeness in her chest. It was tight. Clara clawed at her chest, willing herself to breathe. Little by little she stood up, looking at all of the wreckage around her.

Not a single building stood. Half of Central City was on fire. The second moon in the sky was getting closer, so close now that it almost completely blotted out the sky. Clara wouldn't be able to make it anywhere. Where could she run to? 

Something was calling to her. 

Clara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She hadn't used her power in over a month. She promised she'd never use it unless she was in trouble—something she decided herself, never being asked. But if there was ever a good moment to start, it would be now. Now was definitely trouble.

One step after another. Her senses immediately adjusted to her speed, slow at first, and gradually gaining momentum. A trail of bright orange followed her, zipping past piles of debris and fallen humans. Occasionally she felt the ground tremble and shake, and deep in her heart she knew that the inevitable was coming. The earth started shaking. Falling apart. She felt like her heart was going to fall apart. She knew she was going to die.

How far had she gone? She didn't know. She was afraid of what she would see if she looked back.

And then, all at once, everything went black. 

Clara snapped her eyes shut, running, running. Her whole body left like it was on fire, while her soul and mind felt...different. Off. Like she was completely zoned out, not at all in control of her body.

It felt like an eternity. But as soon as it had come, the darkness disappeared. She snapped her eyes open, but it didn't stop her from immediately ramming against the corner of a building. A full, complete building.

If there was one thing she didn't know how to do, it was stop. Clara bounced between buildings like a pinball, ramming into a trashcan, /through/ a fence, and finally slipping on a puddle just before the exit of an alley into the street. She landed hard on her back, the side of her face still bleeding, her head pounding. But now, on top of all of this, she was starving. Groaning, Clara rolled over, wrapping her arms around her stomach. She didn't have anything with her. 

Clara smelled something burning. Her eyes snapped open to a clean, pristine world. Forgetting the hunger, she jumped up, ripped off her jacket, and threw it against the ground. The whole thing lit up in flames. The soles of her shoes had been worn through, smoking. Like her jacket, she pulled off her shoes and her socks, coming up with the great idea to grab the jacket and throw it along with the others into the puddle. Her hand burned, but thankfully it didn't catch on fire.

She remembered now. That's why her dad and Wally and probably the small kid too would wear special suits when they ran. Kept the friction from setting them up in flames. 

Think, she thought. Think! Look around. She looked around. The sky was as blue as ever. Maybe even bluer. Soft, puffy white clouds drifted across the sky, and for once the city she knew so well as Gotham seemed to be completely at bliss. But it didn't last long. The alley was dark. Behind her she heard shuffling. Without waiting for what it might she, she ran. This time at a slow, 'normal' pace that took her out into the street. Folks ignored her. 

A pang of hunger rumbled in her stomach. The fatigue was catching up to her; it felt like she held the entire world on her shoulders. Her mind was catching up too. The more sights and smells that engulfed her, the more her chest tightened. Eventually even walking was too much for her and without skipping a beat she collapsed right there in the middle of the street.


	2. Patrol

They liked to call it patrol. It wasn’t anything special, but her and a few of the folks at Gotham’s public elementary school liked to trawl through the lesser protected neighborhood across the street, also where she lived. All their families thought they were just playing till dark, which wasn’t really a problem. Just tell them you’re at the school, and you aren’t really wrong. Necessarily. Just across the street right?

It wasn’t so bad. Sometimes it was rewarding. She got the idea from watching TV and the folks who stopped crime and aliens and all sorts of things. The Justice League. Her dad but also not dad. The Flash.

Clara remembered smiling when she first saw it. It was like...all the nightmares and terror and memories she had could rest just a bit. It wasn't her 'real' dad, and even though she'd only seen that red suit for a short time, she'd recognize it anywhere. This Flash wasn't her dad. But deep down, she wished he was. Her dad told her to find him again...but right now? She couldn't.

She’d been placed in foster care when she claimed she had no idea who she was or where she was. Which wasn’t too much of a lie either. Her dad told her not to lie, ever. But even though this was the Gotham she knew well, it also wasn’t the Gotham she knew as a child. Something about this Gotham was different. Cleaner. Friendlier. It was almost surreal, being the crime city central, but perhaps in this world it was more contained. If this was another world. She still spent hours trying to figure out what had happened. There was no way she could have done that, right? She wasn’t fast enough. Something else must have happened, but she couldn’t tell what. It kept her awake at night.

She let out a sigh, propping her hands up behind her head. Beside her was Martha. On the other side Jamie, who toted around a backpack the size of her. Unnecessary for just walking around, but she always had snacks, water, headache medicine, and a first aide kit.

“I added some chips this morning,” Jamie said, grinning. “I know you guys like chips. But also! Isn’t this kinda considered illegal?”

“What? Just walking around?” Martha asked, raising an eyebrow. She crossed her arms. If they weren’t mistaken, she was brooding. “I see nothing wrong with it. We've been doing this for months now.”

“Yeah,” Clara began. “Since when were you a cop?”

Jamie humphed, tightening her grip on her backpack straps. “I want to be a lawyer. You know this. Ever since I was five.”

Playfully ruffling the short girl’s black hair, Martha laughed. She didn’t laugh often. Neither Clara nor Jamie were sure if it was an insult or a blessing. Her laugh was like…a song. A beautiful song. “If you want to be one then alright. You’re kinda small though. And not intimidating at all.”

“I’m 13! I’ll get bigger, just you watch.” Jamie huffed again, pushing on ahead. “But this does kinda cross into being vigilantes doesn’t it? We’re not actually Batman.”

Clara kicked a rock a bit too hard. It went bouncing off the top of a trash can and into the street, making a loud bang that would have scared away any animal in the area. “Maybe not. But think of this as just walking around. Helping folks where they need it.”

“That’s…” Jamie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “That’s exactly what I said. I don’t think I can be a lawyer if I’m doing illegal things.” But she had to admit. It was fun.

Her whole life, she’d never been afraid of the dark. Only the loneliness that came with the dark, never knowing if her loved ones were with her or if it was some cruel illusion. She wanted to help those who got hurt, didn’t want anyone trapped in that darkness, but she didn’t think this was the way to do it. Being out with friends though? That was fun. Doing something together was amazing. Jamie was conflicted.

Clara only sighed though, jogging to catch up with Jamie. “We can always just go back home,” she offered. “Play Scrabble.”

“Martha would kick our asses!” Jamie gasped. “She’s so good. How is she so good?”

“I’m right here you know. And I study a lot.” Martha shrugged. But Clara glanced at her, and she glanced back, and something silent passed between the two. Something unspoken, but that they both understood. “I read the news paper a lot too. And play the crossword puzzles. Kinda what happens when your parents work for a paper, right?”

“Yeah! Yeah. You’re right.” Jamie grinned at them and jumped onto a ledge, pushing herself up against a door that looked like it hadn’t been opened in a decade. “We should play something like Pokémon then. Or Mario. Or Chutes and Ladders.”

“Now that game’s just mean.” Martha sighed, turning a corner. It brought her out onto a street where houses lined up neatly one after the other. Each one had trimmed grass, a tree in the front, and a handful of variations between the roof, door, and siding. It was where Clara lived, with a family that had a dog and a cat, a mom and a dad, and a small pool in the backyard. A simple neighborhood really, but one full of bullies. Most here weren’t lower class per se, but many saw the folks who lived here as being snotty and stuck up.

In more than one situation a kid from class would be followed home, bullied into giving up his homework or lunch money. Clara thought it almost hilarious; what bully nowadays would go after lunch money? That was so cliche. Low.

“It’s not that Jordan kid getting beat up today is it?” Clara asked, hearing a shout nearby. She felt a jolt down her spine, urging her to run as fast as she could, but she wasn’t going to just abandon her friends. Nor could she show them her powers.

Martha pursed her lips. With her hair blowing gently in the breeze, Carla had to admit she looked quite impressive. Like a warrior. Except she was barely five feet tall and had big blue eyes. They narrowed into a glare, and her fists clenched. “They got the Jordan kid. Again.”

Before they ran off, Jamie dropped her bag on the ground and pulled out a headband and an eye mask. She grinned cheekily, looking almost bat-like. In fact, the headband did have little fuzzy ears on them. Clara snorted and laughed, but gave her compliments anyway. It was kinda cute.

“Fan of Batman are we? Thought you disliked him?” Clara asked, only for Martha to roll her eyes. Jamie winked and twirled away, rushing off toward the shout. If Clara hadn’t taught her how to fight, or at least hold her own, she wouldn’t even be doing that right now. She remembered not even a year ago she was too afraid to talk to folks at school.

Without a word the other two followed. Despite so rarely using her power, Clara thought that this was slow. Running at ‘normal’ speed. Her mind was thinking a thousand things a second; overwhelming to some, but normal for her. She tried to think of the quickest way to the kid. He sounded like he was off in a corner, and within moments dogs started to bark.

Wasn’t the kid terrified of dogs?

Clara pushed herself a bit. She caught up with Jamie with ease, Martha following close behind. The girl looked ready to destroy a building to get to him–which wouldn’t be surprising. She remembered the day Martha showed up early to class in order to study a bit and finish her homework, and accidentally broke the door hinges off instead. Being the only other person in the room, it was a split second discussion to sprint around and grab what was needed to fix it well enough that no one would ask. It was that moment, such a short moment of time, that the two immediately understood each other. Clara wanted her to know; didn’t want her to have to come up with excuses for why the door was the way it was. That she wasn’t alone. But they never mentioned it since. Kent was quite…well. She was guarded. Clara didn’t want to push her. Wouldn't say anything until she started talking first. It was only respectful.

Trying to find where the Jordan kid was was actually the biggest problem, though. He wasn't in a corner or anything but in someone's backyard. Jamie insisted that they couldn't just break in; that would, in fact, be breaking the actual rules of the law. And three teenagers didn't need to be getting thrown in jail or anything. 

“Listen, if no one's stopped them now, then no one's home!” Martha grumbled.

“There's no one living here actually,” Clara pointed out. “Haven't seen anyone for probably three months.”

“Fine. I'm going in.” Martha shoved past the two girls, throwing open the gates to the backyard. She bunched up her fists, ready for any sort of attack, and there in the corner of the wooden fence and a brick wall was the boy. He gripped a laptop in his hands, holding it to his chest, as two barking and snarling dogs struggled against their chains. He looked petrified, his face white as snow and eyes wide. His right sleeve had been ripped off.

Jamie didn't waste any time now that they'd 'already' broken the rules. She swooped in, pulling out a handful of snacks from her backpack. She whistled to the dogs to get their attention, but neither turned toward her. Clara inhaled and shouted loudly at them, cupping her hands around her mouth, as Martha sprinted in, scooped up the boy, and ran out. She was fearless. But none of the girls were afraid of dogs. Just their loud barking, if Clara remembered right. Hurt Martha's ears by the looks of it.

As soon as Martha was out the gate again Clara grabbed Jamie. She dragged her out, but a pale frightened look crossed the short girl's face. “What's wrong?” Clara asked.

“If you said no one lives here...then…why….are there…”

She didn't need to continue. Martha shifted the boy so he was thrown over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes and started running. “We don't have time to wonder that!” she said. “We gotta get him out of here. Clara, can we stop by your house? He can barely breathe.”

“Yes, yes let's go. It's the one on the corner!” 

Clara practically had to drag Jamie from staring at the dark slate-gray house. She grabbed her hand, yanking on it, causing the girl to yelp in surprise. The dogs kept barking, even with the gate closed and all the kids running away from it

At the end of the street, the four of them collapsed onto the lawn in Clara's front yard. Well, all of them except Martha. She dropped the boy gently onto the grass, crouching beside him with a steely cold look on her face.

“Kid, ya really gotta stop getting beat up,” Martha whispered, lowering her voice. “And getting into these situations. Come on, you just gotta breathe.”

The three of them watched the boy. He was in Jamie's class, thirteen years old like her. In fact, he'd just turned thirteen the week prior, and had brought in cupcakes for everyone in his favorite class: home ec. Jamie was in the class, and knew him as one of those shy kids who rarely ever talked. It wasn't that anyone in particular in that class hated him; no one knew how to interact with him. It was the kids in older classes that disliked him. 

Jamie thought and thought. His name was Russel. And poor Russel Jordan was curled up in a ball, his breathing all over the place, his body in a cold sweat. He still clenched the laptop to his chest, refusing to let go of it even when Martha asked if she could take it. His brown hair stuck to his face. 

“Hey. Hey, the dogs aren't going to get you. It's okay now.” Martha propped him up, using her shoulder to keep him steady. He opened soft green eyes. “You know why you were trapped with dogs?”

Russel closed his eyes. He took a few deep breaths, breathing in a rhythm that Clara knew was good for anxiety. Steadying himself now, one hand propped up in the grass, he shook his head. “I was asked to come over, to look at something,” he said, voice shaking. Martha squinted. “They instead left those two dogs there, on stakes, brought them over before I got there. And let them loose when. Ah.”

He shook. 

“Who was it?” Jamie asked. She scowled, but it only looked silly on someone so small and...cute. She wasn't intimidating at all, even with the mask. “Was it the girls from upper class?”

“A boy. But, yeah. From the upper class.”

Russel's hair flopped over his eyes as he admitted that. He brought his knees to his chest, his laptop nestled in between. “You didn't have to come after me. I could get out of there myself. I always do, it's not that hard”

“Right, when the dogs got out and tried to maul your anxious ass?” Martha snarled. “You were petrified.”

“Maybe they're nice dogs,” Jamie offered, raising an eyebrow. The three of them simply stared at her, Russel shaking. “What! It's a possibility.”

“I don't know. I should… I should probably be getting home now,” Russel mumbled. He pulled his backpack around, slipped his laptop into it, and stood up, adjusting the straps so it fit right against his back. The others stood up around him, looking at him with worry, but he shrugged off any attempts they gave to keep him hanging around. 

All they could do was watch him leave.

“Wait,” Jamie said, taking a step toward him. “I'll see you in class tomorrow?”

“Why do you wanna talk to me now? You've never talked to me.” Russel shook his head. “I'm leaving. Thanks.”  
–  
The thirteen year old kept walking for as long as he could. He made it a few miles without any problems, tears welling up in his eyes. That was embarrassing. It was already bad enough that he'd been lured to this house because these people wanted to 'see' what he'd been working on—he didn't need the girls showing up too. He'd heard of them around school. Going around the neighborhood trying to play hero.

Russel sighed. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve that hadn't been ripped off and gripped his backpack tighter. His dad would be here soon and tonight he could do his homework. Tomorrow's homework. He finished his homework on the way to see those upper class kids. He guessed his dad would try to talk to him too, but he wouldn't mind at all. He loved his dad's stories about everything he did. Russel only wished that he'd have half the bravery and willpower his dad did. 

But now it was turning to dark. Walking for hours felt like even longer than it really had, and now he was lost in a tangle of buildings and alleys. His feet ached, his head ached, he felt like he couldn't cry any more tears, and to top it off, the two dollars he had saved to get a water bottle had been taken. Not to mention the bruise on his chest. And arm. Those kids were mean, but he could deal with them himself.

“Hey—hey! Kid, whatever happened to meeting at the park? Was that to cool for you or something?”

A chill ran down his back as he saw the green glow. He spun around, a grin on his face. “You found me!” 

“Course I did! What, you think of everything I do I wouldn't find my own kid?” His dad dropped down from the sky, landing gracefully on the ground. He held out his arms and Russel ran to him, wrapping his arms so tight around him that he was afraid he'd hurt him. But Russel knew he wouldn't be hurt. He smelled like something cold and sweet, maybe even a bit like metal. He felt cold too. Almost like ice.

“I know. I should've gone to the park, Green Lantern.”

Hal ruffled the boy's hair, a grin on his face. The green that surrounded him dimmed down until it disappeared, and the mask was gone. “Seems like you've had a long day, if that sleeve's all ripped up. It's cold out here.” He winked at Russel and pulled his jacket off, draping it around his son's shoulders.

“Are we not going home?” Russel asked quickly, his green eyes bright. “I've got homework to do--”

“That isn't due for like two more days. Russ, let's get some dinner tonight, yeah?”  
Russel smiled and nodded, pulling the jacket tighter around his shoulders. “Yeah. Can we get ice cream too?”

“Hmm...well, why the heck not.” Hal laughed, turning toward one of the streets, hands in his jean pockets. “Why don't you tell me about your day? I, of all people, know that sleeves don't just rip off like that. Everything okay here? Who do I need to fight.”

“Hah. It's no one, it got snagged during PE. Gotham's really interesting, you know. Like—there's these three kids...”

Though he was laughing and nodding, engaging in a full conversation with the boy, Hal held back a sigh.


	3. Heart to Heart

“Wake up hon. I’ve got breakfast on the table.”

She groaned. Just a few more minutes. She pulled the soft down comforter up to her chin, sprawled eagled beneath. Maybe today she wasn’t going to blast a hole through the roof. That happened a lot, especially after stressful days and she knew that when she opened them she'd see the patched up ceiling. She didn’t want to open her eyes to see the roof in tatters, but since neither her mom or her dad said anything, she figured she must be safe. Nothing had gotten blown up the night before.

Waking up really was always the hard part. She wasn’t a morning person. Maybe Clara was, but not her. It took her twenty minutes of mumbling and grumbling till she sat up, her black hair tangled up and in her face. Martha dragged her hands through her hair, stood up, and shuffled down the hall.

After her shower Martha sat down at the table, where a plate of eggs and toast sat in front. At the other end of the table, her dad. To her left, her mom. To her right, her little brother Jon, who grinned at her and then stuck his tongue out. Huffing, Martha looked away from him, shoving toast in her mouth. Outside, the winter sun was starting to rise.

“How’d y'all sleep?” her dad asked, smiling at the two kids fondly.

“Fine,” Jon sighed, knowing that he was grounded for the rest of eternity. Or until their parents forgot. Whatever he pulled recently was something very stupid. Sneaking out, Martha guessed. “I did nothing, just as I was supposed to.”

Their dad nodded, looking at Martha. She tried to scowl and put on a brave face, but she couldn’t do that to him or their mom. She fidgeted, frowning. “Well. I. Didn’t blast a hole through the roof?”

Both parents smiled. “We noticed!” her mom said, placing her hand on Martha’s shoulder. “You’ll get the hang of it all real quick.”

“She still can’t fly,” Jon pointed out, which earned him an egg in the face. “Hey! That–”

“You can’t fly either! Least I can jump farther than you!” Martha stood up, glaring at her brother, hands splayed on the table.

“Hey! Martha Kent, the yelling is uncalled for.” Her dad gestured for her to sit back down, and she did with a humph loud enough for everyone to hear. Her arms crossed. “I’m proud that you’re getting control, but you really can't keep doing that.”

“Then make him stop with the snide remarks!”

“It wasn't snide, I was just pointing it out--”

Martha tried to take a deep breath as her parents told Jonathan he needed to stop, but she'd had enough. She pushed her chair back, jumping to her feet against her parents' protests. “I'm going to school,” she snarled. Without waiting, she scooped up her backpack, sprinted out the back door, and launched herself into the air. 

If she jumped hard enough, she felt like she was flying. And while it was true she could jump much farther than her brother, truth of the matter was, she couldn't fly. Couldn't even hover in the air like Jon. Her father told her that it would come with time, but who knew how a Kryptonian-human child would grow? As far as she knew, there were only two in the world; her, and her brother. Being the oldest one of two, it made it almost impossible to know what was going on, and her father was only basing it off what he learned as he was growing up.

Inhaling the crisp morning air, Martha came back down to earth, nearly creating a small crater where she landed. If she was fast enough, no one could see her. She didn't want to think about it. Traveling like this, she could make it to school in about thirty minutes. Fatigue? She knew the speedster at school carried a ton of snacks. Clara was usually quite willing to share, even if their tastes in food were quite different. Where Martha preferred substantial meals like sandwiches, salads, juice, stuff that gave her pure energy, all the speedster would eat was snacks. They weren't bad snacks per se—protein bars, meat snacks, fruits, vegetables, stuff with high calories—but she'd take what she could get.

Normally it was her father taking her to school. He didn't like that he'd have to, risk giving out his location to anyone, but Martha and Clara had grown quite close. She practically begged to go to school in Gotham. Her father said he'd think about it, and one day, it happened. With very little word, a new set of books had been at her desk, with new supplies, and a schedule list. Sure, she didn't have lunch with Clara, but they had half their classes together, and there was a sort of...attraction between the two of them.

She was fast. Speedy, naturally, a topic that Martha downright refused to bring up. Not yet, anyway. Not until she spoke up herself, it was only respectful. Best not to ask about others, and especially not their powers. But where she was practically bouncing off the walls, Martha was not. She was quiet. Thoughtful. Strategical. When they were finally able to partner up, they became an almost unstoppable team. Martha was the brains. Clara was the energy. Perhaps that's why they had silently agreed to spend their afternoons before Clark picked them up running around town, helping out others. Law or not, people needed help. 

And it made her happy. 

Martha braced herself to land on the ground. She knew this routine well. And thankfully, there were plenty of trees around. Getting to Gotham was easy, especially when she turned on her music and put in her headphones. Her current playlist was something both Clara and Jamie had put together. It wasn't necessarily angry, but high energy songs that drove her. 

When she got to Gotham city limits, she stopped. At this point she knew she'd have to take a bus, and finding a public one that was going in her direction was easy. Another twenty minutes and she was running down the street, swinging into the school as the bell rang and students started to sift into their classes. First hour was English Language Arts. Her favorite subject. It made Clara twitch and squirm.

She had to catch her breath as she took her seat behind Clara. The redness of her face and her shortness of breath easily alerted the speedster she'd run the whole way to school, and before long she'd found a pile of snacks on her desk. Before the teacher could arrive, she'd eaten it all, and threw out the trash. It was going to be a long day. 

The whole class she couldn't think. Martha's mind was running in all directions. Of course, she got her work done, but she could barely talk to Clara when they were partnered up to work on an assignment, and she guessed… Well, maybe her head was in the clouds. She'd barely had any idea where she really was until Clara dragged her out of class when the bell rang.

“If you can make it to tonight, maybe we can go out on patrol again eh?” Clara asked, grinning. She pulled a hair tie off her wrist and began to tie her blonde hair back. “Or is your dad going to be a stick in the mud?”

“Well.” Martha sighed. “I doubt he's happy after what I did today, that's for sure.”

“What'd you do?”

“I ran out of the house.” Martha shrugged, pursing her lips. She crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the wall of lockers. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Jamie turning the corner, talking frantically to the Russel kid they'd helped out a few days prior. Martha stayed silent as they went by, Russel occasionally offering a comment back at the chatty girl before she delved into a whole different topic.

Martha closed her eyes, sighing heavily. “I'm probably grounded.”

“Oh. Maybe it won't be so bad?” Clara offered, raising an eyebrow. She put a hand on Martha's shoulder. “If you've still got your phone, you can always text me, or FaceTime me.”

“Heh. Yeah, thank you.” Martha stretched and pushed herself off the lockers as the next bell rang. Silently she waved to her friend and disappeared down the hall and up the stairs to her next class. 

By the end of the day, Martha was completely zoned out. She rushed out of the school without saying good-bye to Clara and put her headphones in before anyone could try and chat her up. 

She barely made it a mile before someone stopped her. She didn't look up, only staring at the ground, trying to side-step around them. When the person was adamant they weren't going to let her pass, she looked up, and stared right into the face of her glasses-clad father, who stared down at her with one eyebrow raised and eyes glowing a very faint red.

Instinct told her to run. But unless she jumped, there was nowhere she could go. Back? Back would work. She spun on her heel and started sprinting down the street, disappearing into the first alley she came to. Folks around her watched her as she went, some even cussing her out in colorful language when she bumped into them.

As soon as she was in an empty alley, Martha launched into the air. She gripped the edge of a building, pulled herself up, and went running as fast as she could. Again, she was stopped, but this time she ran right smack into her father, falling flat on her back. 

“Martha, stop running. I'm not going to yell at you.”

“Yeah, sure.” Martha rolled to the left, jumped to her feet, and caught her breath. She kept herself a good few feet away from Clark. Her eyes glimmered a solid red. “You'll just ground me like you normally do.”

He shook his head, closing his eyes. “No. This time I want to talk to you.” His heart skipped a beat; she could hear he was nervous. When she got angry, everything felt so...overwhelming. Her senses felt heightened, and it drove her up a wall. “I just want to talk.”

Clark reached his hand out, and with a face white with shame Martha took it. They jumped back down into the alley. Immediately Martha grabbed her bag and held it close to her, shifting so she was a few feet away from him again. Clark spent a moment adjusting his glasses and let out a breath. In the cold air, his breath looked like ice. He sure was angry. But also...sad. Anxious? She couldn't pinpoint it.

“You can't run away like that, Martha.”

“Why not?” she snarled.

“You know about who I am. What I do. If you go out there hopping around at random, who might see you?” Clark met his blue eyes with hers, and her heart fell. He looked terrified.

“You can just...keep your ears out for me.” Martha shrugged. She wanted to stay in the alley, but Clark was already walking back out into the street. Despite how uncomfortable she knew her dad sometimes got in Gotham, he walked out on the sidewalk and found a bench with ease. Greeted people, even, with no problems at all.

Martha sat down, letting out a sigh as if she held the either weight of the world on her shoulders. She tapped the toes of her shoes together, enjoying the quite thunk they made. Clark was silent for a few more moments before he continued in a hushed voice.

“I know. I knew you were safe today. But Martha, what if I'm halfway across the earth? What if I'm busy helping the others, and can't get to you in time? I will...try everything in my power to protect you, but--”

“I'm making it hard on you,” she said frantically, breathless. For how tough she pretended to be, tears started to well up in her eyes. “And so is Jon.”

“No this isn't about me, or him, it's about keeping you safe until you know what you can do and protect yourself.”  
Martha looked at him with large, steely-blue eyes, swallowing. “What if I never fly?” she asked. “What if I hop forever like uncle Kon-El? Conner? Whatever he...goes by nowadays.”

“Then so be it. Some things you can't change, but you have to make the best out of what you can do.” Clark cleared his throat. “When we get back home, I can help you. I know I've been paying more attention to Jon. I'm sorry.”

Her heard rate sped up. She knew he could hear it, could practically feel the confusion she felt. Why were these things always so hard for her to understand? But...Clark was trying. Her father was trying very hard, and she gave the faintest of nods. “Yeah. I'd like that,” Martha whispered, staring at the ground.

“We'll start tomorrow, if nothing comes up.” Clark put a hand on her shoulder. It was comforting. “For now though, I have some business to tend to here in Gotham, so why don't you go and find Clara?”

A smile crossed her face. “Really?” she asked. “Are—are you sure? I don't want...I don't want anything bad to happen.”

“Honest.” Clark beamed. “Oh, and, you know that Russel kid? Try and help him out a bit. He deserves a friend. Let's meet up right back here.” 

With that, the man stood up, gave his daughter a hug, and started walking off down the street. Martha spent a few moments staring at the ground, unsure what she should feel, but feeling so many different things at once. 

She took a deep breath. As soon as she had her phone out, she texted Clara. 

Hey, meet me in our usual spot. -M

really? hell yeah! be there in a sec. -C


	4. Busted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I've been fiddling around with the formatting for ages. Every time I manage to fix something something else screws up, sorry if that's bothersome. :(

Martha seemed a bit distant. Jamie had been following after the Jordan kid, trying her hardest to get him to open up. After the day last week Martha had run off after class, Clara had been thrust into this weird sort of…depersonalization? She had no idea what to call it. She certainly didn’t feel like herself, that’s for sure. Looking at herself felt alien. Her body didn't feel real.

And for many days, Clara would have dreams of a ruined world. A world that no longer existed except for pieces of rock floating around in space. When it flashed to images of her old friends and family, smiling, or in agony, she’d wake up in a cold sweat, the images lingering in her mind. Thank god she wasn’t a screamer, she thought, as she tried to steady her shaking hands. She'd be dead, too, if she hadn't run. If someone hadn't...helped her. Who was it? Would she ever see her dad again? Her mom? 

Usually, she wouldn’t get much sleep after that. Going to school was a drag. For someone always on time, Clara was arriving later and later. One day she showed up right as the bell was ringing. And this went on for weeks. On their little outings, Clara lagged behind, telling the others she just wasn’t getting enough to eat was all. Martha looked furious, forcing snacks into her arms, while Jamie always suggested they sit down at one of the low walls and take a break.

“We can’t help others till we help ourselves,” she would say in a cheery voice, looking much to happy to be sitting on a bench.

At least they were kind. Clara always felt warm when her friends showed concern, felt like she wasn’t alone in this familiar but unfamiliar world. She was thankful too that they never asked questions. It hurt to think about her old family and friends– Bruce wasn’t as bad as Hal made him out to be. Damian and Jon were just looking for fun and things to do. Martha and Jamie hadn’t existed on that other world, surprisingly, and probably wouldn’t have ever existed. For a fifteen year old, she sure had some existential dread, but it always eased when she was with others.

Clara’s foster mom greeted her that evening as she trudged into the house. Seven o'clock PM, right on time, but she’d always liked to be early. Being on time, for her, was being late. She held back a sigh, giving her parents a wave. Honestly, they might as well be family now. Even if she ever got the courage to meet this world’s Flash, she would always think of them as family.

As night fell and Clara finished her homework, she found herself lounging on the couch with their dog and cat. Her parents were upstairs, taking showers and doing the laundry. All in all, it was a peaceful night, but peaceful nights didn’t last long in Gotham. There was a knock on the back sliding door. It was so faint that she’d barely heard it.  
The pets were disgruntled, but Clara was more interested in who was at the door, her back door, at 9 pm at night.

She pulled back the curtains. It was Martha, her face pale, hands pressed against the glass. “Clara. Something’s wrong.” Her voice was muffled until Clara opened the door.  
“What?”

“The whole neighborhood is being locked down. I was trying to do something for my dad before he picked me up, but–”

Clara grabbed her hand and yanked her inside. In Gotham, if something was happening, it was either a lowly criminal, or something much worse. This time, it was much worse.  
The ground trembled. Clara’s heart stopped. Every muscle in her body told her to run, and she faintly felt dizzy. It was unnoticeable unless she turned her head too fast, but she could feel it, and panic rose.

“What’s going on?” she whispered to Martha, sitting her at the couch. The dog was practically screaming, while the cat ran and hid in a compartment under the stairs.

Martha wrapped her arms around herself. “You know Russel? The bullies got him again but they’re not... They’re not just kids.” She held her head, squeezing her reddening eyes shut. “They’re from Central City.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Metahumans. It’s what her dad was. And perhaps herself, if inherited powers counted. “Where is he? Russel?”

“I don’t know.” Martha swallowed, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes. “I can’t hear him. My powers. they don’t–”

“They don’t work when you’re stressed?” Clara asked. “Upset? Either one is okay, I’ll…”

Clara looked at her hands and clenched them. She’d talked to Russel a few times since they’d helped him with the dogs. He didn’t hold any ill will toward them like he had before. If anything he seemed a bit happier, especially with Jamie chatting with him all the time. He was cute in a little kid way.

She took a deep breath. “Batman will probably get them.”

“Yeah but I can’t sit around and do nothing.” Martha covered her face with her hands. “I have to do something.”

That was it. Clara leaned down and pulled her shoes out from against the couch leg, and started lacing them up. Martha stared at her with one brow raised, her eyes widening as a gush of wind and a bright orange streak disappeared out of the house through the back door. She had to brush her fingers through her now tangled hair, barely getting it neat and tidy before another blast of wind rushed into the house.

Footsteps were coming down the stairs, and Clara sat down to catch her breath as fast as she could before her parents came downstairs. She hadn’t run like that in…a long time. Months maybe. It was exhilarating. Her muscles itched to run again, but she leaned her hands back against the leather couch, a smile on her face.

“You feel those tremors?” Clara asked as her mom appeared, a worried expression on her face. The shower turned off.

“Yes. Are you okay? What’s Martha doing here?” Before either could reply she swooped over to the girl, caressing her cheeks in soft hands. “You aren’t hurt are you?”

Martha smiled. “No, ma'am. I was waiting for my father when I felt something happening so I ran here.”

“You’re always welcome here. Especially now! If that’s an earthquake then we have to–”

Another tremor. It was softer than the first. Almost as if whoever was causing them was running out of power. Clara’s mom only took that as a sign everything was starting to end and gave them both a warm smile.

“I’m going to check on your father,” she said, nodding. She was surprisingly...alright with this. “Be careful, get under the door frame if you need to.”

The moment she disappeared up the stairs, Clara grabbed Martha’s arm, swung her up, and scooped her other arm under her knees. The girl looked a Clara with a horrified look, stifling a scream as the speedster zipped outside again.

It was like blinking and suddenly being transported. Everything was a blur to Martha, but to Clara it was all coming to her in slow motion. Incredibly slow motion. The cars barely moved, people stood still as statues She knew from science that quakes had to originate from somewhere, and felt the vibrations growing stronger with each footstep. She knew exactly where Russel was.

Her heart sank.

Clara stiffened, losing focus, and smacked into the side of a building. She kept her grip on Martha, stumbling, and came to a halt next to a dark street.

She placed Martha on her feet and sank to her knees, digging her fingers into the ground. All she could see was her family becoming hurt. Her family dying. She looked into the sky, and thankfully only saw one moon. But Clara’s hands trembled and she couldn’t get herself to stand. Her shoes felt hot.

“Did you know where Russel was?” Martha asked gently, a hand on Clara’s shoulder. It brought her back down to earth. “Better yet–are you okay?”

“W-we have to help him,” Clara whispered, feeling her body go ice cold. “What if he dies Martha? What if we–”

Martha grabbed her by her wrists and yanked her to her feet. Clara’s knees felt wobbly, but Martha’s surprising strength kept her standing.

“We don’t have time for what ifs I’d say,” Martha said, gritting her teeth. “Did you see where he was?”

“D-down at the storehouse by the park,” Clara whispered. “I didn’t see really but that’s where they’ve got Russel. They’ve gotta be like sixteen at most. Don’t even have a barricade up or anything.”

This time Martha scooped the girl up in her arms and leaped into the air, heading north. Clara yelped, clinging to her friend for dear life as her stomach felt like it was going to leap out of her throat. Up and down they went, like a roller coaster, Martha not even caring that she was creating craters in the ground every time she kicked off. What threw Clara for a loop was that every time they launched toward the ground, Martha slowed and landed gracefully.

It was getting back up that kept rattling Clara's head, and when they landed Clara practically leaped out of Martha’s arms and collapsed on the ground, arms wrapped around her stomach.

“Listen–I’ve tried not to bring this up so I don’t put you on the spot but how the hell do you do this?”

Martha raised an eyebrow. “The jumping? I guess I’m built for it. I've uh...I'm just...weird--” She reached down and pulled Clara back up, looking straight into the girl’s eyes. “Can you go on?”

Clara swallowed and gave her a thumbs up. “Just give me a moment.” She had regenerative abilities, yes, that much she knew for sure. But she didn't know if it counted for motion sickness. Maybe not. The tremors only made it worse, like her head was filled with static.

She finally got the courage to look up, and found that they were at the pond. The one right next to the park, that people were banned from swimming in, but allowed to throw vegetables into for the ducks. A bridge crossed over it into the play sets, three different sizes from baby, to elementary schoolers, and bigger kids. There was even a huge dome and rope funnel in the sand pits. But on the other side were some park benches and umbrellas in the grass. A building with a vending machine and water fountains. And a little ways away to the west was a larger building. Maybe not a storehouse per se, but definitely a large shed. Something big enough to hold most of the equipment that the city folk used to upkeep the park. 

And exactly as Clara had said, the building shook first. Halfway through the tremors, they stopped. Clara and Martha glanced at each other for but a moment before they both bashed themselves into the door. Their combined strength—though admittedly, most of it was Martha's—easily knocked the door down and it clattered to the ground in a heap of shards.

Three unfamiliar kids around Martha and Clara's age were inside, one of them nearly limp on the ground. His shirt was grasped by someone wearing a green jacket and black gloves, the left of which was covered in rips and blood.

“Don't underestimate me,” the hooded boy said to the one in his hand, a hint of a snarl in his voice. “You don't think the son of a Green Lantern can throw a punch? W-w...well--”  
One of the other boys laughed. Without missing a beat the boy gripped him with both hands and threw him over his shoulder, slamming him into the one who laughed. 

“Go back to Central City! Quit following me!”

The ground rumbled at their feet. The two boys began to stand back up again, while Martha grabbed onto Clara to keep her from collapsing. Shelves began to fall, and shovels clattered to the ground.

“Green Lantern's never even here. What's he going to do, huh?”

“I don't need his help, and I don't need anyone's help,” the hooded boy spat, somehow keeping himself firmly planted on the ground. The third boy tried to ditch, but Martha landed a punch square in his shoulder that knocked him to his knees. “Why are you two here?”

“Russel, I--” Martha began, her heart beating faster. “Are you okay?”

“I don't need help. I know how to fight.”

“He can create EARTHQUAKES. Shit, fuck, that doesn't matter now! Are you okay?”

“...fine.” Russel turned frightened green eyes toward Martha. Tears welled up in the corner of his eyes, gently rolling down his cheeks. 

“We need to get out of here,” Martha said quickly, gripping Clara tighter. She was starting to wobble, her eyes closing. Martha held her as best she could while standing over the boy with the hurt shoulder. “Listen, I'm sure Batman's figured out what's going on--”

One of the boys laughed again. “Batman is a--”

Russel turned and punched him in the jaw. “Stay out of--”

“Enough.”

An almost unnatural chill blew into the shed. It was almost as if all the light from the moon was blotted out, and winter had come early. Clara tried to open her eyes. This feeling...it was...familiar. She racked her brain for what it could be. When she opened her eyes, she saw all four of the boys try to scramble. One ran for a corner, another tried to get back toward the door, and the last, the big one who presumably caused the earthquakes, practically climbed over Russel to open the window.

A shiny black blade cut him off, lodging itself in the window frame. The boy screamed, creating another earthquake as he jumped backwards. Clara squinted, noticing the shape of the blade.

A bat.

Without warning, Clara forced herself to run. Not yet, not yet, not yet. Two years later, and she still wasn't ready. She couldn't face Batman, The Flash, Green Lantern, anyone. Not the Justice League, not the Teen Titans she'd heard Kid Flash talk about, she couldn't even...bring herself to think about it. 

Orange lightning tore off her body the faster she ran. It followed her through the city like a ghost. And she didn't stop running until she could feel it burning through her soles. And her jacket.

“Hey, listen, speedster to speedster, how about be slow down before you catch on fire.”

Clara nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked left. Red. Bright red, and a hint of yellow. Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment she felt like she was as still as the world she perceived; two years of dreaming about the day she met her dad again, and she was terrified. It was like looking at a ghost. Her heart knew he should be dead. The Flash and everyone else on her world was dead. Nothing but space rock. 

“Dad...” she breathed quietly, the world catching up to her. When The Flash gave her a confused look, brow furrowing, she messed up her stop, tripping over her own foot as The Flash barreled ahead. Head over heel she tumbled, into a trashcan, and finally a wall. 

She'd hit her head so hard the world began to fade to black. The red streak returned. She watched him look around, presumably at all of the folk who were gathered around at the girl who'd suddenly appeared out of presumably thin air. As she faded out of consciousness, she felt herself get jostled around, and then she was gone.

–

“You know, she kinda looks like you.”

“Green Lantern.”

“Like, a lot. Except she's got green eyes and fluffier hair and—”

“Green Lantern.”

“What?”

“Let's—let's not start this now. I'm just as confused as any of you are.”

A deep, grumbly voice. It was quite angry. “Okay. Any of you want to explain why you were out risking your lives in _my city_? It was a foolish thing to do, with Justin Payne running around. Do you even know how to protect yourselves?”

Martha's voice. This had to be hers. “I respect you a lot Batman but I'm going to stop you right there, I'm pretty sure if we hadn't shown up Jordan over there would've punched the ever-loving shit out of those kids AND Payne anyway.”

If there was a way one could _feel_ a glare, now was it. 

A different voice. A strong voice, one with hints of friendliness. But also one that was angry. “Watch your language, Martha—”  
“Wait, did my boy really punch everyone?”

“Yeah!” Russel said cheerily.

“Sure did,” Martha confirmed.

“Green Lantern.”

“Come on, you gotta admit that's awesome!”

“HAL.” This time, three or four different voices shout at him at once.  
“What I want to know is what a speedster and Green Lantern's boy are doing in my city. Is Superman the ONLY person who thought to bring this up with me first?”

The Flash's voice. She knew this all too well, eve if it'd been a long time. “Hey, don't look at me. I mean, I'm happy to have another speedster in the family, but I swear I had nothing to do with this.”

“What I do is none of your concern.”

“Green Lantern,” Batman nearly snarled, “you put everyone in danger. Those were metahumans, presumably following you from Star Labs, or Central City at the very least, where I know you hung out a lot two years ago.”

“Only a small handful of metahumans come from Central City,” Flash pointed out.

“You know what, I'm offended.” Green Lantern sighed. 

“This isn't about that. Why don't we ask the speedster herself?”

The room grew quiet. Clara knew she'd been caught. She opened her eyes, and a handful of folks around her gasped. One even remarked that she looked like the spitting image of The Flash. It was Hal. Or, she guessed, right now he was Green Lantern. He was the source of the green hue that tinted the room. 

Clara took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It didn't seem like it had been long since she'd passed out; the entirety of the Justice League was standing around her with a few others, comrades. Some she didn't recognize, others she did. Everyone was dead silent. She locked eyes with Martha, whose eyes were redder than they'd ever been.  
“Care to explain what's going on?” Batman said, cutting right to the chase. “This was deliberate.”

“Um.” Clara picked at the sheets on the bed. It was a medical bay, but where she...wasn't really sure. “Well. I'm...” She took a deep breath. It was now or never. “I'm...I'm Flashpoint. Clara Nora Allen.”

Somehow, the room was quieter.


	5. Young Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd add characters as they came, but at this rate, I'd have a 3 page block of characters and their code names. I'll put in the ones that show up multiple times, so it doesn't come off as misleading. Again, sorry for formatting issues, this site is awful to me.

“Kid. Clara. That’s…a heavy burden,” Flash whispered, the others glancing at him. He rubbed his hands together. “A flashpoint?” A smaller guy standing beside him in all yellow looked horrified. 

Clara shook her head, pulling the sheets off of her. “It’s awful. You told me about it once but. But fact of th-the matter is. It’s true.” She let out a breath she’d been holding back for so long. Batman stiffened. This wasn’t going well. “I don’t know if anyone would believe me.”

Martha was staring at her like a deer in headlights. She scooted closer to Clark, but in a split second decision she rushed over to Clara’s side. “What’s a flashpoint?” she asked. “You never told me you had a code name.”

Silence all around the bay. Clara stood up, her head feeling fuzzy, but with Martha’s help she moved to stand in front of the League. “I’ve been t-trying to find a way to approach you but–”

Flash put a hand on Batman’s shoulder when he tried to approach and stood in front of Clara instead. He knelt down and pulled off his hood, blond hair poofing back into place exactly as Clara remembered it. Seeing him made her freeze up, but ever so slowly a weak smile crossed her face.

“Tell us everything, if you can,” Flash said. “Maybe we can get you back home.”

“Yes. We will do whatever we can,” Wonder Woman mentioned.

If Martha hadn’t a solid grip around Clara’s waist she would have dropped to the ground. Flash quickly grabbed Clara from her, gently under the arms, and lifted her back onto the bed. Momentarily she couldn’t speak. She tried to fight back tears welling up in her eyes. Suddenly, she didn’t want everyone standing around her. All of those confused, angry, or pitying eyes. This wasn’t like public speaking of which she was good at. It was something else she couldn’t place, and she wanted to hide under the covers and pretend she was back at home. Anything.

This time Batman stepped forward, hushing Wonder Woman and glaring at Hal before he could even say a word.

“Your home is gone isn’t it?” His words hung like a dark shadow over the room.

Clara swallowed, her face pale. She wrapped her shaky arms around her legs, and in her silence, Batman sent away anyone who wasn’t a founding member of the League. She watched the boy in yellow disappear. Was that Wally…or Bart?

When most everyone had gone, only the founding members and Martha were left. She refused to leave, but no one bothered to send her away.

“I don’t know how I got here,” Clara whispered. “It should’ve been impossible. I was and still am only able to run as fast as Wally. I can't breach anything.”

Mentioning his name, she saw a moment of sadness cross Flash’s face. He shook it off real fast, but in that instant, Clara knew that Wally here was gone. “We can figure it out later,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “What happened?”

Clara sniffed, rubbing her eye. Slowly she uncurled herself, legs dangling off the bed. “I don’t know what it was called. But it was a big, like… It looked like a second moon…”  
“Warworld,” the group said in unison, glancing at each other uncomfortably.

“A world where it was successful,” Flash whispered, face pale. He clenched his fists. “This is beyond a flashpoint. That’s just–that’s just the point where–” He clamped his mouth shut. Clara knew it wasn’t something to really tell others. “A flashpoint can’t change worlds. It could potentially be a part of it, but not the whole story.”

“Martha and Russel and Jamie didn’t exist on that world. Wally was still around.” Clara covered her face, unable to stop her tears. She sniffed again, pointing at Flash now. “You told me to run. Keep running until I found you again. I haven’t–it’s been two years! I couldn’t approach anyone. I didn’t want you to think I was lying. I haven't seen you, any of you, for two years.”

Martha frowned, patting her back. “I barely understand any of this, but I know they wouldn’t throw you out. We've all seen you run, there's truth to it.”

“We could always make sure it /is/ the truth,” Wonder Woman said.

“Unnecessary,” Batman grumbled, squinting at Clara. “I measured her speed when I first noticed last night. A mile less than Kid Flash. I'm cautious, but it doesn't seem to be a ploy.”

“You and Supes don’t seem very alarmed,” Hal pointed out. “I travel SPACE on a daily basis and I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

Silence. The two in question looked at each other, as if a mutual understanding passed between them. Hal prodded them only for more silence, and the infamous Batglare from Batman. Hal didn't back down.

Batman breathed out slowly. “You of all people, Green Lantern, should understand that impossible things can happen.”

“…fine. You have a point, I GUESS.”

“Clara. Flash. I’m going to run a DNA test.”

“That’s a close to asking politely as he can get,” Flash whispered, to which Clara responded with, “yeah I know.” He raised an eyebrow, but she just sadly shrugged.

“This is all…complicated. You are welcome to stay in the tower until you're ready or go back to your family. One of us will make the call if you decide to stay, and we will bring you back here when we've figured out what more we can do.” Without another word Batman turned and swooped out of the room. Just as Clara remembered he did, like a shadow. 

Most of the others filed out of the room. Flash lingered for only a moment, looking back at her, conflicted. Eventually he did leave, and an emptiness filled Clara's heart. Superman nudged Martha, giving her a sympathetic look. “It’s time we head out. You’ve been up all night.”

“I can’t leave her,” Martha said, voice sharp. It made Clara jump. “I won’t leave her alone. Not after all of this.”

Clara swallowed. She looked around the bay, at all of the empty beds and unused machines. It was then she noticed the bandages around her head. Immediately she began to pull them off, feeling her forehead where she had hit it against the wall. Nothing but a small scar now.

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “It’s okay. I don’t want you getting in trouble,” she said. “We have a test tomorrow at school.”

“That was actually thirty minutes ago.” That would make it 2 PM.

“WHAT–” Clara launched herself out of bed, but Superman grabbed her by the back of her shirt before she could up and run off.

“Oh, no, you need rest,” he said, giving her one of those stern dad looks. “You might be physically healed, but everyone can tell you've got a lot going on. Are you staying here, or are you going home?”

Here. She wanted to stay here so bad, to maybe see her dad one more time. Clara fiddled with the hem of the sheets before looking up at Clark. His eyes were a brighter blue than Martha's. Hers were more like steel, with a sheen of blue. It was almost terrifying. But she puffed out her cheeks. “I'll stay, but only if Martha can too.”

Martha grinned, but Clark only said, “What? This isn't a sleepover, Martha. Especially not at the Watchtower.”

“Then we can go home,” Clara said stiffly. “My home. My mom wouldn't mind.”

Clark held back a sigh. He rubbed his face. “Okay. If you want to stay here, I can pick Martha up later. But I really have something I need to tend to. Flash and Kid have snacks in the watch rooms. I...imagine...there'd be no problem.” He glanced at Clara. “Martha, you know how to reach us if something goes wrong. Stay here.”

The girl gave him a thumbs up. When he left and shut the door behind him, Martha grinned bigger than Clara had ever seen and snapped around to look at her. Clara couldn't help but smile too, and suddenly Martha grabbed her hands, pulling her out of bed. 

“Come on! This place is really cool, it's like my favorite thing.”

“I've technically be here before,” Clara said with a laugh. “The Teen Titan's tower, right?”

Martha stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide. “No, no, this is the watchtower. It's where the league operates. We're in SPACE.”

“Holy shit.”

“Right?!” Martha grabbed her hand again and pulled her out of the room. They went down a hallway and up a flight of stairs winding around what could only be assumed as an elevator shaft. Clara kept looking around wide-eyed, mystified by the smooth metal interior, the view of space and earth, and all of the fancy little banners and items that hung on the walls. They passed a few landings that led off into different parts of the tower, hallways with more rooms, but when they reached the top they got to a landing that stretched out wide and far, with the best view of space that Clara had seen yet. And a view of earth.

In the center was a table. Clara ran over to the edge of the floor in but an instant, looking down. There was another ledge below, possibly the balcony to a different level. On the opposite side of the top landing was a wall. And a tube? It started to glow, spitting out names she'd heard before, but also names she hadn't.  
Robin. Beast Boy. Aqualad. Superboy. Kid Flash. Miss Martian. Blue Beetle. And more. 

Clara had already found the stash of snacks at the table. It was under one of the seats, in a very inconspicuous box, but after running around so much the night before Clara felt light headed. She shoved a handful of chips in her mouth as the group came toward the table, silent, watching the girls. Martha stood stiff.

“Yeah see, that's the girl I told you about! Flashpoint. Apparently she's a speedster too.”

Bart. That was absolutely Bart. And he said her code name gingerly.

“Wait. Are you eating my snacks?”

Clara snorted. “Speedster's gotta eat,” she said, shrugging. “Sides, /Superman/ said I could. But, hi, I'm Clara, that's Martha.”

Bart ran in a circle around them, a blur of yellow, stopping in the blink of an eye in front of the two. “And you're still here because…?”

“I'm waiting,” Clara said. She couldn't look Bart in the eye. It wasn't that she didn't like him or anything, but it was like trying to look at Flash, or Batman; she couldn't bring herself to. In her mind, they were still dead. Are dead. Her world's Bart, Flash, Batman—everyone, they were dead. 

“Are you even supposed to be in here?” Robin asked. He held his hands behind his back, stiff, as if ready to attack. 

“Yeah, the big-guys were talkin' with them earlier,” Bart said. “They practically DEMANDED I be there, probably because of the whole running-fast thing?”

“You talk fast too.” Clara raised an eyebrow.

“Habit.”

“Martha, what's wrong?”

She was staring directly as Superboy. The two of them locked eyes, and wouldn't move from their spots. Beast Boy waved a hand in front of Superboy's eyes, pulling the corner of his mouth when the man wouldn't respond. Miss Martian ushered him away, looking back and forth between the two Kryptonians.

“We need not fight,” Aqualad began, taking a step in between them. “Not on the watchtower. Do you two know each other?”

Clara noticed Martha's glare as the same one she'd give the bullies or anyone she didn't like, really. It was almost like watching a mirror: they clenched their fists, stood with their feet shoulder-length apart, Martha's eyes glowing red. Clara didn't know if either of them had heat vision, but it wasn't something she'd want to figure out. She put her chips down on the table and backed up, charging at Martha as fast as she could. She crashed into her, sending them both flying across the floor, nearly to the edge.

It was almost weird running so much again. This was more than she'd run in probably three months alone, but it felt so good to be free again. Everyone already knew, why hold it back?

Martha seemed less than pleased. She jumped to her feet, stomping right toward Superboy, who bent his knees and readied his fist to throw her across the floor once more. But all she did was point a finger at his chest, practically sliding him backwards. “Didn't think I'd see your ugly face again so soon /Kon-el/.”

“Oh, they definitely know each other,” Robin said, holding his head in a hand. Batgirl and...wait, Clara didn't know the other one either. The one dressed like Wonder Woman. Whatever, they both tried to lug Martha away, but she yanked her arms out, got on her tip toes, and stared at Superboy again. He narrowed his eyes.

“Martha, what are you doing?” Clara asked, zipping up between the two. She was the only one who managed to push her away, but maybe it was because they actually knew each other. From what Clara had seen thus far, she figured they'd both give their live for each other. They trusted one another.

“She knows I'm on the team,” Superboy snarled. He spun around and stomped toward the elevator. It was like watching Martha all over again. “I don't know why she showed up here.”

“I'm not here for you, dick head!” Martha shouted after him. Half of the group looked at Martha in surprise, that they'd ever hear anything like that out of someone like her, while Clara held her head in her hands and sat down in one of the seats around the table. She turned to Clara, eyes red, pointing at the elevator. “That /asshole/ nearly killed me when he got out. I was like nine!”

The silence was deafening. Martha threw her arms in the air and let out an exasperated shout. She looked like at any moment she could break down the door or rip apart the table in anger, and both Clara and Aqualad jumped toward her to try and calm her down.

One by one members of the group stood around Martha. 

An angry Kryptonian; very clearly something the group had dealt with before, but didn't want again. Perhaps it was something Superboy had done, but Clara didn't want to jump to conclusions too fast.

“I--” Martha pushed away from Aqualad, goosebumps on her skin as she realized all the eyes that were staring at her. She stood closer to Clara, her eyes gradually starting to fade back to their steely-blue. “I'm going to go sit down for a bit.” She sounded ashamed, but said nothing more, only stomping away like Superboy had. Instead of going to the elevator, she turned to the staircase, and then she was gone.

On Aqualad's call, everyone gathered around the table. Some folks sat in chairs, others crouched on the surface. Bart claimed Flash's seat and started digging through all of the snacks, most of them special granola bars Flash had made to keep their energy up. And hopefully eat /less/ food. Clara had eaten some before back in her world, and claimed one of them before Bart could hoard them all in his gauntlets. 

None of them knew what to say, really. Aqualad started with the norm, however. “Who are you?” he asked. “Is Kid Flash correct, that the League brought you here?”

Clara cleared her throat. She sat at the edge of the table, in the center of the big U shape, one leg crossed over the other. “Yeah,” she said, voice soft. “I'm Flashpoint, but lots of folks call me Clara.” Don't mention your history. 

“She's not from here,” Bart piped up, mouth full of granola. Clara's face went white. No, no, no. “She's from Gotham, actually. Speedster. And one day we're gonna race.”

“That isn't exactly what we're here to talk about,” Robin pointed out. 

“No, but it's not every day you meet another one eh?”

“Well—I mean. Fair, but...”

“We can race later,” Clara promised. Her voice shook. Maybe this Bart was different. “I probably won't be here long, though. I have a life, go to school, always right on time.”

“Oh, man, Barry would have your head for that,” Bart stammered. “Always talks about how the speedsters have to be super late so no one can connect us.”

“...yes.” Clara remembered now, but in this world, she chose to ignore it. “But, I do have to go home eventually. I'll probably go home tonight.”

“You know, we could always use another speedster on the team!” Bart jumped up, splaying his hands out on the table. Like clockwork a bunch of the other folks shouted no, it was dangerous, they didn't even know Clara!

And Clara didn't want to be on the team either. She shook her head. “It's fine. I don't think I'd be a good part of the team. And I don't think you'd want Martha around either with her hating Superboy, I guess. Me and Martha are fine just being The Sense of Right Alliance.”

Beast Boy and Batgirl snorted. 

“What?” Bart and Miss Martian raised an eyebrow.

Robin gave a hint of a laugh. “Bootleg Justice League toys.”

“A Kryptonian and a Speedster,” Bart mumbled, rubbing his chin. “Makes sense. Who's Batman?” Robin scowled.

“One of my friends. A bit younger than me. Sunshine and rainbows, can disassemble TVs and computers, hack into a few systems.” She left out the part where Jamie had been shoved from foster home to foster home until very recently, when she came into a family that loved her and encouraged her. Maybe they didn't encourage the hacking, but they always sat with her to try and figure out how to put the electronics back. “We have a Green Lantern too. Technically no powers, but I hear he's a great artist and can throw people around like it's nothing.” He was absolutely a part of them now.

Robin leaned his elbows on the table, pressing the tips of his fingers together. “You know the League isn't going to be happy about that, right? Especially now that they know who you are? Batman won't settle for that in Gotham, and Superman's probably pissed Martha's out doing this stuff in the first place.”

Clara winked. “They'll just have to catch me then, huh?” Public speaking /was/ her forte. But she knew just as well as anyone else that Batman would not settle for that, absolutely not. Maybe if they had stayed under cover, but even then, it would have been Superman that found out, if he wasn't already snooping on them to begin with. It was a brave but stupid thing for her to say, and immediately after Tim scoffed, she backed down, sliding into one of the empty chairs with her cheeks a rosy embarrassed red.

“When I leave I probably won't have access to this place again, so does...anyone want to do anything?” Clara asked in a small voice, tapping her fingers on the table. “Maybe an...introduction session?”


	6. Flash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a lot longer to get out than the others. Got swamped by a literal fuck ton of homework! Hope you enjoy.

The watchtower was interesting, and that was a severe understatement. Martha didn't get to come here often but when she did she'd always hang out by one of the big windows in the lower rooms and stare out into space, watching the earth and its clouds for hours and hours. Not everyone got to have this opportunity, and she tried to hang onto every moment of it.

She heard footsteps down the hall before she heard anything else. They were light footed, probably Bart, Clara, or maybe even Robin. She hoped it was Clara, and a faint smile crossed her face when she heard the little shuffle Clara would always do when approaching a door, as if she couldn't decide if she should enter or not. Martha mumbled a quick 'come in' and went back to staring into space, arms wrapped around her legs, whole body leaning against the window. The sill was barely big enough for her, but she managed.

“Martha. Are you okay?” Clara poked her head through the doorway. 

“I thought you wanted to go look around?” Martha asked. Her friend knew she wanted to be alone when she got upset. Martha didn't even want her dad around usually. “Don't worry about me, alright?”

Clara scowled. “You can't tell me not to after you tell me Superboy tried to kill you. It's been a few hours now. I know you need space, but...”

Martha buried her face in her arms. “It was a long time ago,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don't know much about him, except that he's just… I don't think that was really 'him'.” She shook her head.

“You can tell me about it if you'd like.” Clara leaned against the edge of the windowsill, crossing her eyes. “I'll listen.”

“No no it's okay.” Martha took a deep shaky breath, letting one leg hang off the sill. She swung it gently. “Can I though? Ask you, I mean. What was it like back on your old world? Was it weird when you came over here?”

All at once, old memories of her world began to emerge. Her old world wasn't unlike this one, but there were so many subtle things that were different. There was no team like she'd met earlier, but there was the Teen Titans, which had been a group of teens doing their own little thing, led by Starfire and sometimes Nightwing. She'd seen that in the news. And some landmarks were different, some people were different. There were so many things that Clara had noticed over the years that she stopped being able to count them all.

In a way, she felt like she needed to keep her connection to her home. She would write down everything she'd found that was different, and why it was different, but after two years now, she felt like that was slipping away. This world was what she would have to get used to. She'd have to.

Clara glanced at Martha, scratching her chin. “My world was...well. Being here, it's weird. I like...” She sighed. “I know a lot of people. But at the same time I /don't/ know them. I can't even figure out if I could even consider this Flash my dad or not.”

There was a swoosh of wind and suddenly the formerly-yellow clad speedster that had been in the medbay earlier was standing beside the two, grinning a goofy grin. “Couldn't help but hear. Well, about her.” He pointed to Clara when Martha opened her mouth to shout at him. “Seems we have something common eh speedster?”

Martha looked horrified. She clenched her fists. “Who said you could come in here!”

“Hey, listen, I know what it's like.” Bart had a distant look in his eyes, but acted like nothing was wrong at all. The girls exchanged a quick glance before nodding and shifting around and gesturing for him to sit at the sill too. Bart only laughed. “There's not much to say about it though. A lot of it's...already been fixed, I suppose.”

“What happened, if you don't mind me asking?” Clara asked. “I mean, was it the Reach? I briefly heard about it when I….arrived here, but it's...died down, I suppose. I was bouncing between places to live. Happened probably a few months after I got here.”

“That had to do with it, yeah.”

Clara smiled gently, putting a hand on his arm in some weird gesture of solidarity. Her world hadn't had any word from whatever the Reach was, but it was destroyed by Warworld. There had to be something of similarity there. “You know, in my world, you'd been Wally's brother. Hard to still not see you as that.”

The boy grinned. “Seriously? My cousin? That's one heck of a world you got there, or had. Sorry.” Bart cleared his throat, standing against the windowsill beside the two girls. “My world doesn't exist anymore but I—we—the team—made it better. Time's a weird thing like that. But I get to be here now, and it's alright.”

A faint him of a smile showed on Martha's face. She brushed hair out of her eyes and took a deep breath, stretching her arms up. “So I almost get killed by my clone brother uncle, you time traveled, and she came from a whole different universe. What a strange world this is.”

“Hey, we're sidekicks, that's what we gotta deal with.”

“Not me, Bart!” Martha huffed. “I'm my own person. My dad trains me but other than that I do everything alone or as partners. I'm great. I can hop farther than I ever have.”

Bart laughed, hands on his hips. “You hop too!”

“It's a kid-tonian thing.”

Clara snorted. “I didn't know you could joke!”

“I joke all the time!”

“In my point of view you just seem to be angry.” Bart winked, zipping around to the door. “Y'all can stay for dinner if you want. I stick around here sometimes with some of the other folk, sometimes hang with Barry, whatever works eh? I can make a mean pizza.”

The girls glanced at each other again. Bart watched them make an expression that could have been the physical representation of ?! and then get to their feet. Martha nodded, but her face had fallen. 

“Does Kon-El stick around?” she asked.

“What, Superboy? Sometimes. No one's really sure what he does when he goes running around and that's the way he likes it. We'll probably have Beast Boy and Blue Beetle with us though.” Bart shrugged, and then gave them a thumbs up and crooked smile. “You in?”

“Yeah!” Clara jumped up, clenching her fists in excitement. “We should make an everything pizza. Just dump a ton of things on it.”

Martha scoffed, crossing her arms. “I'm fine with just some pepperoni. And some Parmesan cheese.” She shuffled out of the room, barely lifting her feet, with the speedsters right behind her.

By now, most of the team had split up. Some went their separate ways back home while others stuck around in the lower rooms. Clara found some rooms with training equipment, others with beds, and the medical bay she'd woken up in earlier. Despite the tower being in space, the air was warm and welcoming. If anything, Clara only felt a little put off because she was in /space/, but for someone who had jumped worlds, somehow, that didn't seem to be the most surprising thing lately.

Despite how empty the Watchtower seemed, the kitchen was as lively as ever. Beast Boy was crouching on top of a cabinet, chatting excitedly with a young Hispanic boy probably around Clara's and Martha's age. He sat at the island counter, writing down math equations on a piece of paper. Homework, Martha guessed. Three or four other heroes were standing around the kitchen, such as ones Clara knew vaguely as Nightwing, Starfire, and a few of the Batcrew, if their outfits could speak for anything. Was that...Robin?

“Alright guys the Kid Flash is back and we're makin' pizza!” Bart zipped around the room in the blink of an eye, dumping ingredients on the island table. The Hispanic boy jerked away, holding up his papers from the terror that was sauce getting all over the counter. “Heh. Whoops, I thought I closed that last night.”

“Hey, it's you two. I'm surprised your little friend isn't running around too.” Robin leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. “The small one.”

“Russel?” He was the only one Clara could think that was small. Did these guys know him? 

“Yep. Saw him earlier with Green Lantern.”

Beast Boy hopped off the cabinets, walking in a circle around the two girls. When he was satisfied he jumped onto one of the chairs beside the boy who had been doing his homework and scratched his chin. “So are they just like sticking around now?”

“I hope they do,” Bart said, talking so fast that no one caught it. “But you know I'm kinda interested in seeing what they can do. Is she as fast as me? Can she jump as far as Superboy? Who knows!”

“We can hear you,” Martha snarled. “Don't compared me to Superboy.”

Bart waved a hand. “Sure, sure, but, still, I'm interested. Say, Clara, before you go running again me and Barry should get you an actual suit. Keep running like that you'll go through eight pairs of shoes a week.”

Without hesitation Martha opened her mouth to protest, but Clara nudged her in the ribs with her elbow and she backed off. The Kryptonian girl grumbled quietly to herself and took a spot at the island counter, pulling pepperoni out of the little bag and chewing on them with the ferocity of a wolf. Nightwing glanced at Starfire, who giggled and covered her mouth.

“Welp, alright, you kids have fun now,” Nightwing said with a sing-song tone to his voice. The two of them swooped out of the room and as they left, Martha heard one of the zeta tubs activate. She sighed.

“Introductions are in order,” Bart began. While the others had been talking, he was busy kneading the dough he'd made into a big round circle. “Jaime, that's Clara and Martha, Clara and Martha, that's Jaime. You all know Beast Boy here, Garfield, Robin—no one's allowed to know his name, apparently—and there's Batgirl and--”

“You can call me Flashpoint,” Clara said with a laugh. “Or Clara. I don't mind.”

“Noted!” Garfield grinned, waving his tail. “And you? Do you have a codename too?”

Martha almost choked on her pepperoni. “Do I need one?” she asked.

“I don't know, maybe we could come up with one for you.”

“I don't want one.”

Garfield frowned, leaning his arms on the counter and head in his hands. “Alright, alright. What can you both do?”

“Could always go down back to earth and show you,” Clara said with a wink. “But it wouldn't be that interesting. I can run very fast. There's a reason I'm called /Flash/point.”

“Oh! Noted! I get it.” Garfield laughed.

“You guys aren't going anywhere. Well. Clara isn't.”

The atmosphere in the room dampened. Oddly enough, it wasn't because of Batman, but because of Flash, who appeared in the doorway with his arms crossed. He didn't look angry—Flash rarely ever did—but he did have a look on his face that was nearly unreadable. Only the tone of his voice showed that he seemed a little apprehensive, and it made Clara's heart fall. He wasn't looking at her, but seemed to look distant, a look that Bart appeared to know well, as he sprinted away from the dough and to Flash. 

“Everything okay, dude?”

“Yes, fine. But I need to talk to Clara.”

The girl looked back at the team. Martha glared right at Flash, not afraid to launch at him with a punch. Even if she'd never be able to catch him.

“Only Clara. Please, it's not bad.”

Bart sighed, backing off. Clara gave the boy a curt nod and followed the red clad speedster out of the kitchen. He didn't stop just outside the door, but continued down the chilly metal hall to a different room. Probably didn't want someone to hear, but she couldn't be sure. Her heart was racing, her hands clasped together tightly behind her back. 

Standing beside someone who had been her father in a previous world made her legs shaky. She felt like she was going to keel over, because even though she was happy, his apprehensive and tired tone worried her. Memories popped up of when she was little; learning for the first time her dad was Flash, learning that she could run fast, being picked up from school by her mom, hanging out at the park with family and friends at sunset and playing until the fireflies came out. Clara felt her hands shake. A cold sweat built up on her forehead.

Flash—no. Barry. He pulled off his hood, and shut the door. It looked to be a regular bedroom, with a bed, a rug, and a desk. But in this room was also a few chairs around the bookcase, and Barry gestured for Clara to sit down in one of them. She collapsed against the plush cushions, trying her hardest not to stutter.

“Is something wrong?”

Barry laughed, shaking his head. He sat down across from her, elbows on his thighs, and arms limp over his knees. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. “Nothing's wrong. Batman suggested I talk to you privately. Tests came back, you really are mine and Iris' daughter.”

She wasn't sure what to say. She'd been waiting for this moment for so long. Of course she was their daughter. But... “But...am I. Really?” Clara asked, brushing a lock of hair behind her ears. She couldn't meet Barry's blue eyes with her own. “I mean. Completely different worlds, you know? It's why I didn't approach sooner.”

“Well. You're right, different worlds. And it's kinda weird, but that's just what happens to us speedsters.” Barry ran a hand through his hair, settling it against the back of his neck, and looked away from the girl. “We get into all sorts of crazy trouble, don't we? But it's not any more or less weird than my grandson showing up from a dystopian future.”

“Wait, really? Bart, right? I didn't know that! I knew he was from the future though.” Clara gripped the plush arm rests of the chair. “You know, in my world, he was Wally's brother. Didn't know him much, rarely saw him. Didn't formally meet him till Warworld showed up, and it's...like seeing ghosts.”

“I can imagine.” Barry nodded, finally looking back at her. “How long have you been here?”

Clara inhaled deeply, letting it all out in one big gasp. “Two years.” She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on top. “I saw what happened with the Reach. I just didn't know that Wally...”

“It was very sudden. But we've been doing our best to carry on. Bart took on being Kid Flash in his honor. And, you know. I still don't really know how to feel about this yet. I'll talk to Iris, maybe you can come and hang out with us sometime. I wouldn't mind.”

“Really?” Clara perked up, a small smile on her face. “I—I don't wanna...intrude, though, uh. Barry.”

“I wouldn't mind at all! Heck, I wouldn't even mind taking you under my wing. You and Bart there are the same age, us speedsters gotta stick together, and you don't seem to be very good at stopping.”

“Hey I haven't run like that in at least two years!” Clara laughed, covering her face with her hands. “You—um, well. My dad. Dad. He always tried to teach me how, but sometimes he just got really busy. I didn't mind though, I told him, I don't need to learn right away.”

The two of them laughed lightheartedly, as if all of their problems had disappeared. Clara let out another breath, finally uncurling herself from the chair. She leaned forward, glancing at Barry and then at the ground. Her heart was full of joy. She couldn't stop grinning and almost began to laugh, but she stopped herself before she could. 

For a brief moment they were both silent. It was Barry who broke the silence when he stood up, and placed a hand on Clara's shoulder.

“This might be weird for both of us, but I know all of us here will help you out. Batman wants you to stop your little team, though. Either potentially join the Young Justice League, or don't do anything at all.” Barry closed his eyes, standing upright. He adjusted his hood and pulled it back over his face. “He's very protective of his city, doesn't want you getting in the way. Doesn't want you getting hurt when you don't need to.”

“He could have told me himself,” Clara mumbled. “I have to help people! I can't just...stand there and do nothing.”

“Then I can take you under my wing and you can join the team. You can stay with whoever you're staying with now, there's zeta tubes all over, but I really do think it would be for the best.”

“Jamie and Russel wouldn't be able to join.”

“Russel?”

“Russel Jordan.”

“Yes, I know, he's my godson. Are you telling me he goes out /with/ you? Why is he in /Gotham/?”

Her face paled and she jumped up, her hands pressed together in front of her face. “Yes, he goes out with us. Being completely honest. Technically? We saved him once, tried to save him twice, but the second time he literally just threw the bullies over his shoulders. I consider him part of the team.”

Barry huffed. He scratched his chin, scowling. “I'm going to have to talk to Hal about that. I don't know Jamie though, but it might be for the best that you guys stop that. I'm sorry. You can all still be friends, I just...wouldn't...be doing that.”

“Yeah...” Clara sighed. She rubbed her arm, feeling very small. “I understand. I'll...I'll tell them. Sorry.”

“It's alright, I'm not angry. It's more for your protection. If you need me, here's my number.” The Flash zipped around the room in a gust of wind and in the blink of an eye he had a paper with a number scrawled across the surface. “I got a job I gotta get to, but I'll call back whenever I'm able to if you can't reach me.”

In a second he was gone. Clara stood there as her hair settled back down from the gust of wind and then turned her gaze to the paper in her hand. She almost wanted to. Maybe she'd do that tomorrow, just to hear his voice again, but she didn't want to sound desperate. Didn't want to put him on the spot, or anything. He wasn't /actually/ her dad. 

She was going to get hung up on this all night. Maybe if she decided she'd go on to be his apprentice, she'd call him back. But for now she folded up the paper and put it into her back pocket.

“Are you going to be okay, Clara?”

“Huh? What?” Clara jerked her head around to look again at the door. It was Martha. “Oh. Yeah, I think so.”

“Pizza's ready, if you're ready.”

“Oh, yeah. I'm starving...” Clara took a deep breath, and followed Martha out the door.


	7. Jamie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah...this took very long, and it's also very short. This and the next chapter have been very difficult for me to write, for whatever reason. Things'll pick up again after the next chapter!

When she'd come face to face with the bat himself, she'd been trying to find her way home. 

The ground was shaking and rattling. An earthquake, obviously, but she wasn't able to find anywhere safe, and riding her bike around wasn't going to get her anywhere. Doorways were shut, people were moving off of the streets and crowding wherever they could, and then as suddenly as it had begun, the earthquakes ended. People on the sidewalk were looking all around, at each other, whispering and inquiring what was going on—but no one had any answers.

Jamie pursed her lips. She knew that right now, she wouldn't be able to help anyone, as much as she wanted to. But maybe she didn't need to. When she looked into the sky, she saw a dark figure—it looked like someone was carrying another, heading east. Without hesitation, Jamie hopped onto her bike and pedaled after them. Every so often the earthquakes would pick up again, and her heart dropped as she watched a green streak soar through the sky, and then a red and blue streak. She felt a gust of wind beside her.

Biking was slow, but it was all she had. It got her where she needed to go when she wasn't running around with Clara and Martha. Sometimes even then she'd have to ride it, because the two were just so much faster than her. She'd always get left behind if he wasn't bordering on a jog. It didn't bother her, however. She was just happy to be included, and the two did their best. She could tell. They'd always ask her opinions and listen to what she wanted to say.

What she didn't understand, however, is why she caught a glimpse of Martha on the rooftop. Jamie hit the brakes, nearly flipping her bike forward, but as soon as she tried to get a better look, her friend was gone. She kicked off again, turning a corner, having a hunch that wherever the two figures had gone was the park. There wasn't anywhere else around here of note; just a bunch of houses. 

Another gush of wind stopped her again. Jamie was slower to stop her bike now, looking around. Someone hit a trashcan and got flung into the wall. A man in scarlet red appeared beside her—she gasped.

The Flash.

Jamie didn't dare speak. The speedster padded toward the girl who had crashed into the wall, knelt down, and gently lifted her head up into his lap. He prodded her. After a moment of nothing happening, he scooped his arm under her knees, the other under her back, and hauled her into his arms. Jamie only caught a glimpse of the girl before The Flash ran off; it was Clara. 

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she wasn't sure why. Did she feel left out? Clara and Martha weren't the kind to do that. 

She tried to call them. Neither of them picked up the phone. When she called their homes, Clara's family didn't answer, but Martha's mom did. 

“Hi! It's um—it's Martha's friend Jamie. Is she there?”

“Oh, no, I'm afraid she isn't right now.” Her mother cleared her throat. “I do believe she's out with her dad .”

“That's okay, thank you.” Jamie hung up her cellphone, frowning deeply. She stared at her lock screen, a picture of some cute cats with bird wings she'd found on the internet, and then let out a deep sigh.

She kicked her kickstand up and began to wheel her bike back home. From the distance of the park it was only about a twenty minute walk away. She wasn't looking forward to her foster parents being upset with her being out so late, especially with everything that had happened. It only took a second for her to picture her mother's disappointed face and her father's distant yet confused look as he shook his head. Given, it wasn't as bad as some other households, and they were generally nice folks, but it always hurt to be looked at in disappointment.

Jamie noticed that by the time she'd gotten back onto her own street everyone had retreated indoors. Which made sense. It was pretty late at night. The earthquakes had subsided ages ago and already people were getting over it. That's just how life went in Gotham. Just another night of something ridiculous happening that Batman—or in this case the Justice League, she guessed—would stop.

“Batman,” she mumbled, wheeling her bike around the side of her house. She chained it to a rack that her parents placed out for her and stretched her arms in the air.

When she turned around, she bumped into a shadow.

Literally bumped into a shadow.

She stumbled backwards against the gate to the backyard, her shoulders stiff. Putting on a brace face, Jamie looked up, clenched fists—and looked right into the white eyes of The Batman himself. Her breath caught in her throat.

For a moment he was silent. He squinted at her, approaching, leaning down so that they were more or less eye level. Jamie swallowed, unable to look away from him. 

“You and your little friends need to stop,” he rumbled, cutting the silence. It made Jamie jump. The Batman didn't seem intent on harming her, but seeing him so up close for the first time ever caused her breath to catch in her throat. “If you don't think I haven't been keeping tabs on you, then you are wrong.”

Jamie tugged at her shirt collar. “Wh-what do you mean?” she asked.

He simply squinted again. He didn't move a muscle. “Don't play dumb with me. It's dangerous out there. Keep your head where it belongs and stay at home, or play in the park. What you and your friends do isn't a job for you.” 

She opened her mouth to speak back, but no words came out. Batman lifted his arm, pointing his grappling gun at the roof, and disappeared. Jamie ran out into the street and turned back toward her house to see if she could see him, but there was nothing. He was gone like that, as fast as the earthquakes.

Her and her friends, however...

Her, Clara, and Martha? She thought they did good work. Helped out kids in the neighborhood that might not have the capabilities to help themselves. 

Jamie wasn't afraid of the dark. The night sky and her dark room were what she liked. But she was afraid of the darkness of being left alone, like she'd been multiple times before, or being trapped around people who could hurt you. That's why she liked Clara and Martha; they always stuck with her when they were around. They'd saved her ass on multiple occasions. And Jamie didn't want anyone else to feel left out or alone. 

Deep down, she knew that her friends hadn't left her alone on purpose. She rubbed her arm, frowning. They'd only go out together if they were all together, or if one of them explicitly stated they wouldn't be able to come. Like that day Martha had run from school. She didn't want to say no to the Batman, but maybe she'd have to. She wasn't going to stop helping people. And she knew that neither of her friends would either.

She just couldn't shake the disapproving look Batman had given her. It was as bad as her father's.

Maybe she'd have to think about it first. Happy as she was, Jamie wasn't the best at making decisions.

She took a deep breath and headed inside her house, bracing for her parents to berate her on where she'd been all night.


	8. Let's Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah this chapter. I was struggling to write Hal and still don't feel like I wrote him very well. I actually had most of this written before the previous one but since either could be posted in any order, that one went first. 
> 
> School's ending over the next two weeks as well so it'll be a little while till the next chapter! Thank you for reading.

The alarm beeped and beeped. Normally this wasn’t a problem, but he’d been out so late the night and day before that it was almost impossible for him to get up for school. He couldn’t keep his eyes open no matter how hard he tried. He’d been asleep for half an hour, when he’d normally try to get at least six.

It took him a moment to remember the previous few days. Earthquake kid follows him from Central, attacks his friends’ neighborhood, and he ends up at the Watchtower with Clara telling everyone she’s the daughter of The Flash. And learns that Martha is the daughter of Superman. And he is the son of a Green Lantern. The first and best Green Lantern, he might add. 

Like minds stick together, he guessed?

And then his dad took him back here, where he finished his homework that he’d missed and went to bed. Try as he might to get to sleep, he wasn't able to for some time. Not till the sun was starting to rise again.

Russel lifted his head from his pillow, running a hand down his face and squinting blearily at his alarm before shutting it off. His dad wasn’t trying to wake him up, so he dropped his head back against the pillow and drifted to sleep for who knows how long.

When he woke up the sun was high in the sky. Noon? He rolled over away from the rays of sun glinting through the slats of his blinds and went back to sleep, tucking an old bear under his arm.

Next he awoke at dusk to someone gently shaking him awake. Russel stiffened, grabbing their wrist and readying to fight, but the only person with access to this place was…dad. He let go and sat up, holding his foggy head in his hand.

“What’s the time? I need to get ready for–”

“I called you in today. Wasn’t going to make you go to school after all that.” Hal sat at the edge of his bed, donning his usual jacket. Must have just gotten back from work. Or maybe he’s going there now. “And, we need to talk.” He started rubbing his wrist where Russel had grabbed it.

“I. What?” Russel blinked, taking a deep breath. His brain hadn’t woken up yet.

Hal blinked at him. “Later. Right. Later. Go get some food, shower up, you’re covered in dirt. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He disappeared out of the room. Russel looked down at his lap, at the piles of disheveled blankets all around him. Yes. This was his home. Not uncle Barry’s. He loved uncle Barry and didn’t mind sleeping elsewhere, but it was always nice to wake up in his own bed.

It took him half an hour to shower, brush his teeth and hair, get dressed, and head out to the living room. They lived in a small apartment, but since his dad was gone a lot Russel got the one room. Sometimes he’d give it up if he sensed his dad had a hard day. His dad never asked for it, normally sleeping on the couch. Blothes and blankets were often strewn everywhere, but this morning the living room was rather tidy and clean.

Russel shuffled to the kitchen. It didn’t seem right to have cereal in the evening so he looked through what they had in the fridge and pulled out spaghetti leftovers. It was a few days old by now but he didn’t mind.

“So are you going to tell me why you charged in to fight off a dude /with the ability to create earthquakes/?”

He choked on a bite of spaghetti, slamming his fork down against the table. “Dad I–”

“I mean. I'm proud you fought them off but you can’t just go running into situations without thinking. That’s what /I/ do.” Hal sat down at the table, running a hand through his hair. “It’s dangerous out there.”

“But you taught me to fight.”

“Because I know you’re getting bullied. I wanted you to know how in case you got in a real fight.”

Russel’s face paled. He glanced at the wall, the corner of the dining area, into the kitchen, anywhere he wouldn't lock eyes with his dad. He kept talking, but Russel missed a lot of it, his mind trying to figure out how he could have known that.

His dad figured it out real fast and shut his mouth.

“Russ.”

“Y. Yeah?”

“It’s my job to know. I didn’t want you to worry.” Hal let out a deep breath. “I figured if I kept moving you you’d be left alone.”

Russel fidgeted with the fork. He felt a cold sweat build on his forehead and anxiousness fill his chest. Sometimes he forgot about his anxiety, but he tried his best to not let it affect him.

He finally turned and looked back at Hal, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t…know what to say.” He sniffed.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Maybe it was just another stupid thing I did, but you were always a good sport about it.” Hal put a hand on his shoulder. “I said it was my work so you wouldn’t be upset. I just…didn’t know there were metahumans following you. We're figuring it out.”

“Wh-” Russel had been lied too? Was this even a good reason for it? He pursed his lips. “Anything else I should know?” he asked, his voice weak. “Was it more than one metahuman?”

Hal drummed his fingers against the table. Russel’s eye caught the green ring he wore, glimmering under the table’s light. “All three of them are metahumans. Bruce sent them to the GCPD, since they did attempt to destroy a whole neighborhood and have destroyed many before.”

Heart pounding, Russel pushed his food away. He barely felt in control of his own body. “You knew?”

“No, not till Bruce told me. Barry had no idea who they were, but they did say they came from Central.” Hal dropped his hand and leaned against the surface of the table, one hand propping up his head. “But you know what? As long as you don’t go picking a fight, Bruce says you can still go to school with your friends.”

Russel blinked his big green eyes. “Really?”

“Bruce wasn’t happy I sneaked you by but you just can’t go fighting others.” Hal raised an eyebrow. “At least, not the way you’ve been doing with your friends. It’s dangerous to have the family of other superheroes around, in a way.”

“I thought you had no fear?”

“Well, everyone does sometimes,” Hal admitted. “It's a fact of life. You just can't let it affect you.” He scooted his chair back, gesturing for Russel to look at him. “I'm proud that you helped stop those guys, but you can't do that again, alright?”

“...yeah. Alright.” Russel nodded. “Um, what...should I do tonight?”

Rubbing his chin, Hal stood in the middle of their living room. “I need to get back to work, but I did bring you some movies to watch if you want. I'll be back in the morning, and we can have breakfast.”

That smoothed things over with Russel, just a little bit. He smiled softly, nodding. “You have your power battery?” he asked.

Hal reached down behind the counter, lifting it up. The soft green glow filled the room in the darkness. Russel took a deep breath as Hal held his ring to the lantern, recited the Green Lantern oath, and in a flash his whole outfit had changed from his typical jeans and jacket to a brilliant emerald and black suit. He turned and gave Russel a wave before flying off through the window. The boy ran over to the balcony and watched as he turned into a distant green spec, and then nothing.

Watching his dad go off was always such a magical moment. Russel, deep down, couldn't help but wonder if one day he might be up there with him. All the stories that Hal brought back ignited the boy's imagination and sometimes he'd dream of the different stars and planets that were described to him over dinner or breakfast. He wanted to be able to see it too. 

He'd love to be a Green Lantern. He knew as much about the history and workings of the entire Corps as he knew about space or art. Hal even promised to introduce him to Kyle Rayner one day, who Russel only knew as one of the coolest Lanterns—White. But that would be much later, he imagined; he was only 13 after all, just turned it. A child wouldn't be let into the Corps. He had a ways to go yet.

If anything, he was just happy that he'd be able to keep going to school without being bullied and with his friends. Martha and Clara he didn't know well—only saw them in passing, really—but Jamie was special to him. He couldn't place why, but a smile appeared on his face when he thought that he'd be seeing her tomorrow.

Wait.

No.

Tomorrow was Saturday.

Russel rubbed his eyes and flopped down on the couch, turning on the TV. No news stations were running, and few cartoons were playing, but the ones he did find were the old school ones his dad probably grew up with. It was going to be a long night, but he had games, and a TV, and a laptop, so he couldn't really say it was all boring. There was even a 24 hour gas station down the street that had really nasty and yet, somehow, fantastic pizza.

But before long, the boy had fallen asleep again. He rubbed his eyes, settled into the fluffy pillows, and was out light a light all over again.


End file.
